The Misinterpretation of the Unsaid
by danagabrielle
Summary: Another one of my speculation induced fics. If you hate spoilers, stay away. My readers say my fics are totally in character. Just so you know : Will be rated M later.
1. That Thing Between Them

**A.N.: ****If you liked _The Burden of Proof_, you should like this one. Kind of the same spoiler induced speculation… Can't help myself! It should be shorter, though :)**

Chapter 1  
THAT THING BETWEEN THEM

Booth had no idea what he had done wrong. All he knew was the nasty feeling that he had been walking on eggshells around her all day long.

"Are you ready?" he asked anyway.

"For what?" she replied, eyes still on the screen of her computer.

"For drinks. Like we always do!"

"I'm not going," she told him, without even a look.

Booth let his hands drop to his sides.

Brennan had had enough. Why would she want to put herself through another evening of stomach butterflies and longing stares, when she knew –it was pretty clear now- that nothing was ever going to happen? They were stagnant. Stuck. And she should have been happy with that. She loved their partnership. But she was starting to like it too much. It was becoming quite confusing and it made it really hard for her to enjoy dating other people. But it was easy for him apparently. So she had to take a step back. She just had to. For her sanity. For her logic.

"You're not?" he repeated, sinking into disappointment. "What's with you today?" he continued. "You're not yourself."

She frowned, annoyed.

"Oh. And who am I, then?"

He almost groaned, clenching his fists.

"You know, for a woman of science, you're annoyingly philosophical."

She turned back to the blank page in front of her.

"Well, maybe if you spoke clearly, I would understand you."

There. It would be easier if he was angry with her.

"And maybe if you paid a little more attention, I wouldn't need to be clearer."

Wanting to push his buttons some more, she missed to realize that she was pushing her own. As the words came out of her mouth, she swallowed their bitter taste.

"Call the marine biologist. She'll be more than happy to take…" She stopped herself just in time. Yes, she had been about to say 'take my place'. _So wrong._ "… take you out."

Booth snorted. Not the reaction she had expected. And she knew that noise meant he was just about to turn all this around on her. She shut her eyes in apprehension.

"Are you seriously mad at me because I'm dating Catherine?"

Her head spun towards him and she couldn't avoid the surprised look on her face.

"You're _dating_ now? I thought you only had lunch."

"So you _are_ mad at me," he nodded.

"Why would I be mad?" she spat out.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking!"

"Well, I'm not mad. I don't care."

"Obviously," he mumbled.

"Plus, I'm having coffee with Andrew," she decided on the spot.

"Great!" Booth's voice was a little higher pitched than usual. "I hope you have a good time."

"We will. Thanks."

Booth left quickly. She closed her eyes and sighed. _Great. _Now she had to call Andrew to ask him for coffee if she didn't want to turn into a large chubby liar. Or was it big fat liar?

***

_That man is unable to shut up. _She mentally slapped herself. It wasn't Andrew's fault. She was just in a bad mood. She shouldn't be taking it out on him, even if only in her head.

"I meant to ask you," she said while he took a fry out of her plate without her permission. _Stop judging him, Temperance._ "Being the assistant director of the FBI, you have access to all federal databases, right?"

"Of course! I'm the Man!" he joked.

"So… If I were in need of some… information, let's say, you would probably be able to help me."

He seemed more than curious now.

"What kind of information?"

"Well, if I were to need some background information on someone…"

He started laughing. He dug into his jacket pocket and took out a pen. He took a napkin, ready to take notes, and asked,

"So who do you wanna check out? You're mailman? You're car dealer?"

She bit her lips, about to change her mind. But if Booth could do it, so could she. Right?

"Dr. Catherine Klein from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration."

Hacker started writing when it hit him.

"You want me to run a background check on Booth's new girlfriend?"

She ignored the pinching sensation in her chest.

"I don't think he's calling her his girlfriend… but… I just want to make sure he's… safe."

That made no sense. Booth was more than capable of taking care of himself. But… _Giving him a social-contracting tie on the first date… Who does that?_

"You two really are something," Hacker chuckled. "Is he checking out your dates, too?"

"I think he does." She realized her date was his boss' boss. She was about to get him in great trouble, wasn't she? "Not. Well… not _you_, of course. He wouldn't... He… No." _Crap._

Andrew put his pen down, crossed his arms over his chest, and she suddenly felt examined. She held on to her coffee cup with both hands.

"I think Booth can handle himself, Temperance."

She nodded, almost ashamed of herself.

"But if you really think she's dangerous…" he continued.

"No. Never mind. I was just being…" _Uncontrollably absurd._ "… protective."

Andrew smiled. But he looked somewhat disappointed. Or sad. No, disappointed.

Brennan avoided his eyes and took a long sip of her coffee.

_Maybe Andrew could ask Catherine out. Andrew and Catherine. Andy and Cathy… _She chocked trying to swallow. She put the cup down, through a coughing fit.

"You alright?"

_Obviously not. What's wrong with you?_

***

The Founding Fathers was over packed tonight, but she still spotted him instantly at the bar. She approached carefully, wondering if he was still upset with her.

He saw her out of the corner of his eye and blew out a short, knowing smile to himself.

"I thought you weren't coming," he said as she came to stand beside him.

"I wasn't planning to, but I passed and saw your car and…"

"I was just leaving," he cut her short. But she put her hand on his arm.

"Can you stay? Just a little while. I… want to talk to you."

She knew what she was about to tell him would most certainly make him mad. Furious, even. But she felt that pressure inside, and she had to tell.

"Sure," he let out, ordering her a beer.

She sat down next to him and waited until the bartender brought her drink before she opened her mouth to talk. But Booth went first.

"How was your coffee with Andrew?" he said, on a weird tone.

She could have lied. She could have said things were fantastic. Maybe it would have made her feel better, him thinking she was into her date as much as he seemed to be into his. But she liked being honest with him. It made her feel close to him. Even if it was only for a mere second.

"He stole my fries," she mumbled.

Booth chuckled and turned to her for the first time since she had arrived.

"What?"

"My fries. He picked some right out of my plate without asking me."

"So what? I do that all the time. I didn't know you were a plate hugger. Should I be careful next time not to touch your stuff?" he laughed.

"No, that's the thing. I like when you touch my stuff."

They both heard her words and exchanged a loaded look. A tiny flash of embarrassment she rarely let shine through passed in her eyes.

"I mean, I don't mind. That you… eat my fries. I don't know."

Booth took a sip of beer, hiding a smirk. He was relieved. If she didn't feel comfortable letting Hacker eat her fries… she probably wasn't letting him touch anything else of hers.

A little more at ease, she decided it was time for that honest moment.

"I… asked Andrew to do something for me. And… although, I don't think he will do it, I thought you should know."

He didn't ask. He just looked at her, wondering how worried he should be.

She struggled between apologizing before or after. She licked her lips. _God, he will be pissed._

"I asked him to run a background check on Dr. Klein," she blurted out.

He laughed quietly. She frowned.

"You're not mad?" she checked.

"Why would you do that?" he asked, really wondering if she even knew.

She shrugged, staring at her hands.

"Same reason you checked out your brother's fiancée, I guess."

Instead of focusing on the fact that she had practically called him her brother, he said,

"You know I had already checked on her. When she was a suspect."

"Oh."

What else was there to say?

"Found anything interesting?" she questioned him, still avoiding his eyes.

He smiled.

"Nothing relevant to my safety, no."

He watched her. It was surprisingly clear how bad she felt about this. He could see the guilt eating her away. He chuckled to himself again and caressed her back.

His hand going up and down her spine made her shiver. She couldn't help but tilted her head his way and lock eyes with him.

"I'm sorry," she said.

He smiled and she instantly felt the corner of her own lips go slightly up.

"I'm happy you're concerned for my wellbeing," he said.

"That's what friends do, right?"

_Friends. _

"Right."

He sensed his fingers were about to linger on the back of her bra, so he stopped touching her altogether.

She saw him reach for his wallet in his jeans back pocket and tried to get to hers first.

"No, here, I've got it," she said.

But she couldn't get to her money in time, so she pushed his hand away as he tried to let dollar bills on the counter.

"No, Booth, I said I've got it."

"I was here first," he argued.

She laughed.

"So what?!" Now she was almost wrestling with both his hands, trying to get him to put his money back into his wallet. "I wanna pay."

"Keep you money."

"Stop!" She was still laughing. She was going to win this one, no matter what.

"Buy yourself another Rolex."

At that 56th Rolex mention, she slapped his hand a little too forcefully, hiding her grin behind pursed lips. He dropped his open wallet on the dirty floor. They heard loose change rolling.

"Do you have a wallet or a piggybank?" she chuckled, kneeling on the floor to pick everything up.

Booth squatted in front of her, found his wallet under a stool and gathered all the quarters and dimes he could find. His heart stopped when he saw it. Praying she would not see it, he went to grab it discreetly, but his hand ended up on top of hers. Not only had she seen it, she had gotten to it first. _Crap._ He took his hand off of hers and turned it into a fist. _Double crap._

She was holding it between her fingers when she fully realized what it was.

Booth spun up on his feet so quickly that he hit his head bellow the counter. Wincing in pain, he watched her as she got up, too. She was still staring at it.

Brennan's heart had started racing. It's not like she had never touched one before. But there was something uncomfortably arousing and awkwardly sexy to handing Booth a condom.

She was biting down on her lips, looking at him straight in the eye. He tried to focus so his pants wouldn't get too tight too quickly. And he shook his head.

"That's not mine," he said.

"Oh."

She turned around and grabbed the arm of the man next to her.

"Excuse me, sir?"

The man looked at her and his eyebrows raised as she held the condom to his face.

"This is yours," she said.

_Oh, God!_

Booth went to grab her arm so she'd stop handing the condom to every guy around.

"Bones! Stop!"

She looked at him as he wrapped his fingers around her wrist.

"No!" he hushed her. He grunted. And he almost whispered, "It's mine. Alright? It's mine."

She frowned.

"But you just said…"

"I lied, okay? Just… give it back," he pleaded, wishing to erase this whole moment from his brain.

"You lied?"

"I was embarrassed," he admitted unwillingly. Palm up, he motioned his fingers quickly towards him so she'd give it back.

"Why?" she asked, ignoring it.

_Oh, here we go! THAT'S why._ He shut his eyes as she started her tirade.

"You're a grown man. You have nothing to be ashamed of." She shrugged. "I'm glad you're being responsible."

_Thanks, mom._

Her eyes dropped to it. The smooth, soft middle under her thumb…

"So you're having sex." She hadn't meant to say it out loud. She knew Booth was… active. But she realized she didn't want to know for sure. No.

She didn't look like she had any intention of giving it back.

_Magnum Ecstacy. Ribbed for her pleasure,_ she read to herself. _Her_ pleasure. Catherine Klein's pleasure? She sure seemed very sexual. Torn between a pinch of jealousy –feeling she was getting way too familiar with- and that wet sensation between her legs, she swallowed with difficulty.

Booth put on his jacket.

"Fine! Keep it," he said.

"What?!" No, she hadn't meant to screech like that either. She shoved it his way, with a slightly horrified look on her face.

He tried not to laugh at her expression. _This is one ridiculous situation. Ri-di-cu-lous._

"Why would I need a condom?" she asked. Out loud again.

"I thought…" Was he really going to say it? "Aren't you and Hacker…"

She shook her head before realizing it was none of his business and said,

"I'm sure Andrew has his own condoms. Thanks."

_And he probably doesn't need _Magnums.

Here they were, a condom between them. Things could not have been any weirder.

Strike that. Yes they could.

When their fingers met on the small square foil envelope, their eyes met. Condom or no condom, this was far from safe.

He grabbed it, looked down. She shoved her hands in her pockets. And she passed in front of him to exit the bar.

When he was sure she wasn't looking, he dropped the condom in the trash can on his way out. Had she seen the expiration date, he would have never heard the end of it.

* * *

**To Be Continued…**

**There you go. I can't believe I'm writing another one. Damn me. I have important work to do! Why can't I stop?!?!??!**


	2. Fires, Fights and a Whole Lot of Nothing

**A.N. :**** Thanks so much for all the reviews and alerts!!! This is gonna be good, I think :) **

**There's a paragraph in there that I really like. I seldom go with Booth's POV, but that paragraph felt right to me. I hope you can find it and tell me if I managed to make him believable too!**

Chapter 2  
FIRES AND FIGHTS AND A WHOLE LOT OF NOTHING

"What are you doing here?" Angela asked Brennan as soon as she spotted her still sitting in her chair.

"Well, it _is_ my office. I'm working."

Angela dropped her purse on her friend's couch and walked to her desk.

"Didn't you say you had a session with Sweets this afternoon?"

"Booth cancelled," she informed her.

And she should have been glad, too. Those sessions were more and more awkward every time ever since they had read Sweets' book. So she knew she wasn't bothered by the fact that he had cancelled. She was bothered by his reason. Never had she ever cancelled a session because of a date.

"Ok, tell me," Angela said, taking a seat on the other side of the desk, ready to listen.

"Tell you what?"

"I know you, Brennan. Since I've walked in, you've been opening and closing random folders, pretending to be working. Tell me what's bothering you."

When had she become so transparent to everyone? Or was it only to Angela?

Brennan laughed at herself. _Pathetic. Go on. Prove to your friend just how pathetic you are._

"He has a date."

'_Again?'_ was Angela's first thought, but she remained calm for her best friend's sake.

"That is sooo _cliché_!" she said.

"What is?"

"Third parties! Come on. Booth has totally jumped the shark!"

"I don't know what that means…" Brennan admitted. But then her stomach clenched. "Is this a sexual thing? A play on words because she's a marine biologist?"

Angela laughed, shaking her head.

Brennan frowned. She failed to understand the hilarity.

"A date in the afternoon?" she said through giggles. "That does _not_ sound sexual to me." Seeing that Brennan didn't agree implicitly, she added, "You shouldn't worry. Lunches and afternoons don't mean anything."

Brennan kept to herself. Booth had everyone fooled with his seemingly puritan persona. But she had always suspected him to be well capable of enjoying the benefits of a great endorphin, oxytocin and dopamine release any time of the day. She brought her shoulders back.

"I'm not worried."

And that made Angela snort.

"Right."

"I am not!"

Angela's conspicuous smile turned into a solid grin.

"Do you want me to check on them?"

Brennan's eyes widened and she shook her head vehemently.

"No!"

Then she paused. And thought. And lowered her voice.

"How would proceed exactly?"

But as soon as the words flew out of her mouth, she took them back.

"No," she said again. "Don't. Just… No. Ok?"

Angela laughed, stood up and took her purse.

"Okaaaay… But if you change your mind…" she dragged on with a wink.

Brennan watched her friend leave. And wrestled with herself inwardly. She should be happy for Booth. It was good that he was socializing. Very good. He didn't have to let her know every time he had plans with her, though. That was not necessary. Unnecessary. And childish.

***

Booth was getting ready to leave when the young doctor appeared out of nowhere to stand in his way.

"We need to talk," Sweets said, vaguely hoping it would be enough for Booth to do something out of character and listen to him.

"Can't. I have plans," he refused, trying to get Sweets out of the doorway.

"So you're really going through with this?" the therapist said, really surprised.

Booth snorted.

"You're the one who told us we needed to… seek and form other bonds," he quoted.

Sweets felt like throwing up. Or giving up.

"That was reverse psychology!" he cried out, in desperation.

Booth tapped him once on the shoulder.

"Well, maybe you should concentrate on your forward psychology before you try and reverse it."

"I just hope you know you are complicating things," Sweets said before regretting it slightly.

Booth stopped trying to exit and turned to face him.

"_I'm_ complicating things? _She_ has dated my friend, my brother, my boss… and I'm just supposed to watch and wait it out?"

"_You,_" Sweets emphasised, "are aware of your feelings. _You_ are making a conscious choice to betray those feelings. It's not healthy, agent Booth."

"Oh! Because suddenly my feelings are _real_ now, huh?" Booth was so pissed, so confused, so overwhelmed by the overall feeling of being a loser that he laughed. "You wake up one day and, needing a good conclusion for your book, you decide that it's not all in my _brain_ anymore?" He breathed in deeply. And again. "Get out," he dropped, on a very calm tone.

Too calm.

Sweets was gone before hearing that freakishly calm tone again.

_It'__s not healthy, agent Booth. _Booth repeated in his head. _But pining and hoping and getting nowhere is?_

Maybe that's just what he needed. Just to see if he could possibly be happy with anyone else. Even for a second. She seemed to do fine without him, why couldn't he do fine without her? So what if he needed to stop thinking about her? About his next step. To stop worrying about pushing her and losing her. To stop daydreaming about their almost kisses. Almost touches. Almost. So what if he enjoyed being pursued by a beautiful woman? So what if he liked that long-lost feeling of being attractive and charming? So what if he enjoyed when a woman let him open a door? So what if he loved being able to pay for lunch without getting endlessly nagged about his need to stand out as an alpha-male? So what if he loved feeling wanted? Openly wanted. And Desired. And useful. So what if he did all this just to see that new indefinable flicker in her eyes every time he mentioned the other woman? So what if he enjoyed the situation now that the tables were turned? Did that make him a bad person? Well, then… so be it. It felt good. It felt manly. It felt _him_ again. It felt… so damn fucking wrong!

***

"How's the case going?"

That was the first question out of Sweets' mouth when the session started.

Though usually unaware, Brennan sensed something was different about Sweets. He never wanted to discuss cases right away during therapy.

"Fine," Booth said a little dryly.

"Well..." she turned to him, ready to contradict him. "We still have to find the rest of the remains."

"Right. And identify the victim. Or the arm, anyway."

"True."

"I mean," he mumbled, "we can't really do anything until we have an ID."

And she bit back.

"I'm working as fast as I can, Booth!"

"I'm not blaming you!"

"I hope not. It's not _my_ fault we're stuck," she let out, turning away from him, arms crossed over her chest.

"You saying it's mine?"

"Guys?" Sweets intervened. They were pouting. And glaring at each other. "Guys!" They snapped out of it and turned to him at exactly the same time.

The doctor took a deep breath. He knew deep down that it was the right thing to do, but sitting there, watching them, he decided to re-examine his decision. His doubt lasted only for a second.

Doctor Lance Sweets was a good psychologist. But he had done a mistake, evidently. He had assumed they were ready, but maybe by publishing his book, he had screwed with the balance of the universe. Instead of confronting _him_, they had not stopped confronting each other. Had he pushed them so far back into denial that they couldn't even close a case anymore? Yes, the therapist had let himself get too emotionally involved. He had to stick to his decision. For their partnership's sake.

"I have decided to ask that I be reassigned to other agents. I mean patients. Or another team."

Their mouth dropped open.

"What?"

"Why?"

Sweets got up, circled his desk and stood behind it.

_I screwed you up and I'm sorry._

"I think it would be best for you both if I stepped aside and let..."

"He can't do that," Brennan let out, turning to Booth, as if he could be the one to stop him.

"What is it, Sweets? We don't inspire you anymore?"

_Like that's going to help._

"You can't abandon us," she tried herself. "I mean... are we done with therapy?"

"I know another FBI psychologist who would be happy to take over for me."

Brennan had no idea why she was feeling panicky all of a sudden. She looked at Booth again for support. He was smirking.

"That's reverse psychology again, isn't it? You want us to beg you to stay or something?" he said.

"He looks serious, Booth," she whispered.

Booth examined the shrink's face. He did look serious.

"What are we gonna do with a new shrink, huh? Come on," he pressed on. "We've wasted over 2 years with you!"

"You're the baby duck," Brennan admitted. "We trust you."

Sweets let out a sad laugh.

"Trust me?" And he shook his head. "No, you don't. But thanks."

They all kept staring at one another, wondering what could be done. Wondering what should have been done. Wondering.

Brennan shoulders dropped. She felt betrayed. She turned to Booth again who was sitting so far away from her on the couch that their legs weren't even touching like they always did. She felt lost. And alone.

***

But by Saturday night, she got her smile back. Working had always been the best way for her to regain her balance. She was back on her feet now. Oh yeah. And she couldn't wait for him to know that they... that _she_ had found their breakthrough. Who knew you could find so much from a single arm? She did. There were thirty bones in the human arm. It was a wonder it had taken her so long to get something from them.

Half gloating already, half anxious to hear his voice, she dialled his number. On the 5th ring, she checked her watch. It was late. She should have waited until the next day. He was probably sleeping. Or maybe he was out. With her. Again. On the 7th ring, when she was about to hang up, his voicemail picked up.

"Booth, it's me," she started. Maybe she had to specify which _me_ it was. "Bones. Uhm... I've got some good news and I thought... I'd share it with you as soon as possible. So... uhm... Yeah. Call me back when you get this. Bye."

She'd try again in the morning.

***

By Sunday afternoon, she had left three messages. All unanswered. Granted, it was Sunday. The Holy Day of Rest, as he said. But on the second message, she had very specifically said it was important. And on the third, she had told him again that it was good news. Had he become so wrapped up in his own new-found personal life? Didn't he care about them... about their work, anymore? She had to know for sure.

That's why she was standing behind his apartment door, waiting for him to open up. Hoping that he was just enjoying his weekend like most people did. That he was not avoiding her. Hoping that he was not slipping away. That it was only in her head.

But when he did open the door, she realized she had not foreseen the anger that suddenly crept in her.

"Oh! So you _are_ alive!" she grunted, pushing him out of her way to go inside.

"Bones?"

"What's the matter with you?" she said.

"You're the one bulldozing into my apartment, and _I'm_ the one with the problem?" he mumbled, shutting the door.

He had promised himself he would not see her this weekend. A two-day-trial period. Because he could not remember one single day for as far as he could think back, when he had not thought about her. But there she was, breaking the vow he had made to himself. And she was furious and beautiful. And he felt like banging his head again the wall. Or on any hard surface. He was failing his own experiment miserably. No wonder he was not a scientist.

"Why didn't you call me back?" she asked him as soon as he joined her in the living room.

She was pacing around. Like she was looking for something.

_No trace of a woman,_ she thought. _So he was avoiding me and he didn't even have a good reason._

"It's the weekend, Bones. I didn't feel like working."

She bit her lips. Yes, she had called him about work. But he didn't know that. So when he thought about her, his mind went straight to work. Fine. So they weren't really friends, now. Now that he had a woman in his life, he didn't need their comfortable surrogate relationship.

Her mind was racing, thoughts over thoughts. She needed a pause. She needed a break. She took a deep breath. All those thoughts were scaring her. She couldn't recognize herself anymore. Doctor Temperance Brennan didn't react like this. To anything. She had lost herself and she was losing him. That could not be good.

"You_ always_ answer," she said, almost to herself. "Or at least you call me back."

He had nothing to say, apparently. He was massaging the back of his neck, sign that he was getting a headache. But she ignored it and continued her rant.

"What if I had been stuck somewhere, bleeding to death, huh?"

She frowned at her own words. Those _what ifs_ served absolutely no purpose. She was looking for a fight. A nice fight, to get all the freaking tension out of her system.

And he played along. A fight sounded good to him, too.

"Well, I know you said it was good news, but..."

His words shook them both. Maybe he had gone too far.

He sighed and sat down. _Okay. Let's start over._ He had wanted to hurt her because she was hurting him. The only difference was that he was doing it on purpose. She had no idea what she was doing to him. Because he hadn't told her. Because he couldn't just yet. He didn't even ask himself why anymore. He just knew he couldn't.

She stood there for a while, blinking. Hoping she had stayed home. A sad wave of calm washed over her.

"Everything is changing," she whispered, sitting next to him. She focused on her hands. "Sweets wants out. You... suddenly have a life."

His eyebrows rose in surprise.

She placed her hand on his knee to reassure him.

"And I'm really happy for you. But selfishly..." She took her hand off before she admitted the rest. "... I hate it. I hate that... nagging sensation in my stomach. That feeling that I've taken you for granted and that..."

Trying to explain what she didn't understand fully yet, her mind wandered back. Way back. To that time when Rebecca had talked about her and Booth. To the words his ex had told her. _I think there's a moment for two people. A single moment where they can either catch fire or... We missed our moment._

A chuckle passed through her lips. She buried her face in her hands for a second. _Wow._ _You are way more tired than you thought you were._

"I'm sorry," she said, taking it all back and suddenly getting up.

He stood and planted himself in front of her. Close.

"No, _I'm_ sorry. I should have called you back right away. It won't happen again."

She looked up at him.

"Of course it will happen again, Booth."

He went to touch her shoulders but she shifted on her feet and kept talking.

"But I won't react the way I just did. That was just..." Here came that faint, self-deprecating huff of a laugh again.

His index finger reached under her chin and lifted it up so their eyes would meet.

"I'm here, Bones."

He didn't know what else to say. So he dug through her eyes. She blinked rapidly, taking a deep breath, and forced her gaze not to drop to his lips.

Was that another moment? Because she had felt on the verge of catching fire way more than once.

"I should go," she murmured, walking away as her heart thumped harder in her chest.

He buried his hands in his pockets.

"What about work? Didn't you have good news for me?" _I could use the distraction, now._

She played with the door handle before turning to him one last time.

"It can wait until tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, then." And he grinned as only he could. And she recognized that manipulative, charming, cocky smile. The one he always used when wanting to make her laugh. And she did, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

"See you tomorrow, Booth."

And as the door shut behind her, she breathed out. Something had to be done. She would not be able to stay away from that man a whole lot longer. And Angela couldn't help, because she _wanted_ them to catch fire since day one. She realized she had no one to talk to. She would have to figure this out on her own.

***

"You can't do this," Brennan told him as soon as she entered his office without knocking.

Sweets' head spun up from the awfully thick case file he was trying to read.

"Dr. Brennan?"

"You can't just hand us over to some other psychologist."

She sat down, ready to plead her case.

"Dr. Brennan," he started. "I am not abandoning you. I sincerely feel that it would be best for you both that I..."

"No. You have no idea what's good for us. Otherwise, you wouldn't even consider leaving."

He waited until she was ready to talk again.

"You know us," she said. "And right now? We're clearly not working at our outmost potential. We've got some... issues." She sighed before he could interrupt. "Fine. _I've_ got...issues. I give you that." The words sounded weird coming out of her mouth. "And... we most certainly would not make a great impression right now on anyone who doesn't know us. I don't want to take any chances. I don't want the FBI to take some other trained psychologist's advice and sever our partnership. You _have_ to stay with us."

She finally looked up to him.

"Please," she added, politely.

Sweets got up from his chair and rolled it with him so he could sit closer to her.

"Are you ready to discuss my book's conclusion?" he asked, carfefully.

Her eyes flew shut immediately. Then, she looked out the window on her right.

"I don't know," she admitted. Which was a huge step up. "Keep in mind that I hate psychology."

"How could I ever forget?" he laughed.

The silence that followed wasn't tense. But it was nerve wracking. She twisted her fingers on her lap.

"Maybe it's just the power of suggestion," she proposed.

Sweets tilted his head.

"But since I read your study of us, I can't help but analyse every little thing. I can't stop."

Sweets nodded, prompting her to continue.

"I know that you've scared him into dating," she said.

"You think I scared agent Booth?" he repeated. _Wow. That'd be the day._

She wasn't really paying attention to the doctor sitting across from her. She babbled on and on.

"And if your conclusion had been right, he wouldn't be dating. Or he would be trying with more than one woman."

"But you're dating, too," he pointed out.

"Not really," she confessed.

"Does Booth know that?"

She frowned.

"He didn't ask," she said.

"Do you _want_ him to ask?"

Ok. That was enough. They had gone way further than ever. And it was getting uncomfortable. She straightened her back.

"So, are you considering staying with us?"

Sweets smiled. Boy, had she come a long way.

***

"You can't do this," Booth told him as soon as he entered his office without knocking.

Sweets tried not to laugh as he put down the case file he had started reading again merely half an hour ago.

"Agent Booth?"

"You can't do this to her," he said, walking to the window.

"What?"

Sweets got up, too.

"Oh, I'd be more than happy for you to leave us the hell alone, but she needs stability. You know that. You can't toy with us, suck us up dry of material and just... leave. That's just not right," he said.

But Sweets wasn't saying anything. So Booth turned to him, sighed, and said something he never thought he would say to a man.

"Fine! I'm _begging_ you. _Please._ Don't do this to her. _Please._"

"Dr. Brennan has already talked me into staying."

"She did?" He frowned.

Sweets walked back to his chair.

"She's more than capable of taking care of things herself. Maybe you don't need to protect her from everything anymore."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think she can handle it," Sweets simply said.

Booth snorted to cover up the fact that he really wanted to believe him.

The psychologist continued.

"Are you ready to discuss my conclusion?"

"Don't push it," he warned him through his teeth. And just before he slammed the door, he let out, "And butt out, _now_."

---------------

To Be Continued!

I know this one was a little dramatic... I hope you like it, too! More moments to come :)

Dare I beg you to review? Imagine I'm Booth and it's dark and you hear him say, "_Please. Just once more."_


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